


Didn't Even Begin To Describe It

by hunters_retreat



Category: Leverage
Genre: Eliot is good at moving furniture, Eliot likes it, Hardison is bossy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 17:56:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1437418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunters_retreat/pseuds/hunters_retreat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Something I found on my computer.  Definitely a comment_fic but I have no idea when I wrote it :P</p></blockquote>





	Didn't Even Begin To Describe It

**  
**

“You want it where?”

Eliot was glaring and Hardison couldn’t help himself. It was almost instinctive to try to rile Eliot up. The man was so damn easy sometimes. Not that Eliot wasn’t just as far under Hardison’s skin.   Like everything else they did, they were good at this. They skated the line between friends and lovers like they were Olympic gold medalists.

“Just a little to the right man. No, wait. Too far. To the lef- no now it’s too low.”

“Hardison!” Eliot growled his name before he hung the painting, putting it where he wanted it. “You said you needed help with something important.”

“And this isn’t important?”

“I was watching the game, Hardison.”

“I got a TV, man.”

Eliot gave him a long look before he seemed to rein in his temper. “Yeah?”

“Beer in the fridge too.”

“Now we’re talking.”

Hardison watched him walk out towards the kitchen and turned his attention back to the painting. He pulled at the edges and adjusted it until he had the right placement. Eliot might not care about esthetics too much, but there was a reason he came over to visit more than he asked Hardison over and he knew it was more than the contents of his fridge.

A crash in the kitchen was followed by a loud, “Fuck!”

Hardison ran back towards the other room and found Eliot with one hand wrapped up in a towel. “What did you do?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Nothing my ass. Let me see it.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“Eliot, let me see it. Now.”

The hitter looked like he was going to deny him again, but Hardison held out his hand and Eliot gave a little growl before unwrapping his hand. There was blood on the hand towel and Hardison wiped up the edges of the cut on Eliot’s hand.

“Was gonna make something to eat while we watch the game. Banged my beer on the sink and shattered the damn bottle. Got my hand. Told you, I’m fine.”

Hardison took Eliot by the hand and pulled him back to the bathroom where he kept the bandages. It wasn’t bad – Hell Eliot probably got worse from a good bar fight and he enjoyed those – but Hardison could be a bit of a worry wart. He got it naturally from his Nana.

He pushed Eliot back against the sink and cleaned his hand up before putting a bandage on it.

Eliot let out a small chuckle as he finished up. “S’kinda hot.”

Hardison looked up from Eliot’s bandage, confused by Eliot’s words.

“You taking care of me like that. Getting all bossy and shit.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I think it’s time we moved this to the bedroom.”

“Hardison, I was gonna watch the game.”

“Now, Eliot. Don’t make me say it twice.”

Eliot was grinning when Hardison walked past him. He headed to the bedroom and didn’t bother to look back. Eliot was right there at his back. Hot didn’t even begin to describe it.

**Author's Note:**

> Something I found on my computer. Definitely a comment_fic but I have no idea when I wrote it :P


End file.
